The Windmines of Bora Bora: Virasana Empire: Sir Yaden, #2

Sir Yaden #2

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The Windmines of Bora Bora

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a Virasana Empire novel

by Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus

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Impressum

© 2019 by Beryll & Osiris Brackhaus, Kassel, Germany

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author, except as allowed by fair use. For further information, please contact osiris@brackhaus.com

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It contains explicit violent content and is intended for mature readers. Do not take the events in this story as proof of plausibility, legality or safety of actions described.

Editing: Chantal Perez-Fournier

Proof: Julia Weisenberger

Cover: Anna Tiferet Sikorska | tiferetdesign.com

ISBN-13: 9781079207156

www.brackhaus.com

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Credits

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Thank you to all our friends and readers on Live Journal and AO3 who have lived in this universe with us for the last couple of years. Thanks for all your love for the characters and places we have created. For the cheering on and the questions and all the fun.

Without you, this book would never have been possible. We love you all.

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A big Thank You to our beta readers – Alana, Eija, Julia, Leseratte, Max, Talomor, Tif and Uhu – for keeping both our heads and the story straight.

Blurb

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The Emperor cares for each and every one of his subjects.

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Betrayed by his sister and sold into slavery to die in the dreaded Windmines of Bora Bora, Ivan has nothing but sarcasm and spite for the Lotus Knights' well-worn catchphrase. No one ever cared for him - not when he was a young noble, not as a tortured Quetzal pet, and definitely not as a runaway slave gang leader in the slums of Yaiciz.

But all that changes when one of his fellow inmates turns out to be a genuine Lotus Knight, offering help and a way out of this misery. Suddenly, even Ivan can't help but feel like there might be something good in his life to look forward to.

The Windmines of Bora Bora is a dark, snarky adventure and the second book of 'Sir Yaden', an epic SF saga of grand adventure, bromance and patchwork family, set in the multi-faceted Virasana Empire.

Table of Contents

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Foreword

Memory One

Chapter One – To Hell in a Handbasket

Chapter Two – Welcome to Bora Bora

Memory Two

Chapter Three – Working Environment

Chapter Four – Prison Life

Memory Three

Chapter Five – Trial and Error

Memory Four

Chapter Six – A Door Opens

Chapter Seven – Cave Diving

Chapter Eight – Revelations

Memory Five

Chapter Nine – Coup de Grâce

Chapter Ten – Cascading Failure

Chapter Eleven – Deliverance

Memory Six

Chapter Twelve – Homecoming

Chapter Thirteen – Starting Over

Memory Seven

Chapter Fourteen – Proposals

Chapter Fifteen – Starting a New Life

Epilogue

Foreword

By Siva Quetzal

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I come from a family of heroes.

My parents and siblings have saved the people of this empire more often than I can count. There are movies about them, comic books and theatre plays.

Most accounts of their adventures are correct, and yet I feel something has gotten lost among the action figures, TV shows and collectible mugs. They do risk their lives every day so we all can live a little safer, yes, but none of their heroics would have been possible without the love and trust that sees our family through all of it.

And while it feels odd to add yet another story to this ever-growing pile, please indulge me. Let me tell you of the time my father met his first squire...

Memory One

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God dammit, boy, what is wrong with you?!

Bile rose in my throat as I watched my baby brother flinch at the scolding of his tutor. The man towered over Ivan, who sat on the ground, cross-legged, and concentrated on the candle before him.

Or rather, trying to concentrate.

Even from where I stood, by the entrance to the training yard, I could see the tension in Ivan's neck, the drawn expression on his face, the way his hands did not lie relaxed on his knees, as they were supposed to, but plucked at the soft material of his pants.

I knew he was suffering a fiendish headache already, and yet he was still trying so hard to do everything right. Still trying when everyone – including that callous tutor and Ivan himself – knew perfectly well that he simply couldn't succeed. No matter what the genetic scans had promised, he was no psion. He would never light that candle with his mind alone.

My little brother was always trying so hard to please, to be good enough. History, Politics, Etiquette – no matter what the field of study, he excelled at it. His Martial Arts trainers were full of praise for his talent and discipline. To any other father, he would have been a perfect son. But not to ours.

Ivan was lacking the two most vital qualities our father expected of him.

Our father was the younger brother of the Duke of Yaiciz, who was an old and bitter man, thoroughly adhering to the oldest tenet of our House – 'The survivor inherits' – much more so than on many other worlds. The Duke was childless. So with our father being his closest relative, we were the direct line of succession. Not that Father would ever have been a genuine contender for the title, being much younger and far less cunning than old Duke Ilhan. Though, at least, he had been pathetic enough to lure his older brother into believing he needn't be removed. And biding his time, Father had developed grand designs for my brother and me, his daughter.

Alas – the title of Duke could not be gained by being a diligent student or a pleasant nephew. It would only be gained through intrigue, murder and a complete lack of conscience.

And that was one of Ivan's shortcomings. A conscience. He lacked the guts to be as brutal and decisive as he ought to be. He shied away from the darker and more painful aspects of life. But as we Quetzal say, 'only what you don't know can hurt you', and I was well aware that this made Ivan a liability to us.

But that wasn't even his worst failure.

Father was a psion, a moderately talented pyrokinetic. After the death of my mother, he had searched relentlessly to find a woman to sire the perfect psion heir. In the end, it had been a lowly slave girl who matched his genetic makeup enough to allow for the breeding of a pyrokinetic of the highest potential. It had cost our father a fortune. And it had all been for nothing.

Ivan couldn't even light a candle, as he had just proven anew. He failed the simplest meditation exercises. As a Quetzal and as a psion, he was an abysmal failure.

Like, I guess, every Quetzal girl, I had always despised Father on general principle. But with every passing year, watching him torment poor Ivan, that feeling had blossomed into genuine hatred and seething rage. In House Quetzal on Yaiciz, killing my father was the natural way of succession to his title, but the way he treated Ivan had made it a personal matter to me. It wasn't Ivan's fault that he wasn't a psion. It wasn't his fault that he was too weak of heart to ever make a proper noble. But he had so many qualities that no one but me seemed able to see.

As a little boy, he had always been cute. Now, he was growing into an achingly handsome young man. At the age of fifteen, many boys turned lanky and awkward, but his constant physical training ensured that he was as graceful and lean as a dancer. The fact that he wasn't a pure-blooded Quetzal had only improved on his beauty, with his skin the colour of burnished copper, his black hair falling down straight and thick in a braid down his back and his soft, brown eyes slightly slanted, like a cat's. Where I shared the more angular lines of my face with my father, he had inherited a kinder, softer cut from his slave mother.

When he smiled, my heart lit up, each and every time. His small, rare smiles made my heart glow with love for my baby brother.

A gentle soul like him needed to be cherished and protected, not pressured and beaten and blamed.

To tell the truth, I believed we had just been born into the wrong House. Had we been Cournicova, I could have showered him with all the pampering he deserved. He would have learned right from the start that I only had his best interests in mind, that there was no need for him to look at me with fear, that he was allowed to love me without dreading my ridicule.

But all of his suffering would end now.

After almost two years of careful planning and manoeuvring, this morning I had struck. Hard, fast and precise. No one would ever dare lay a hand on my Ivan again.

Again! Ivan's tutor bellowed.

His insolence was insufferable. He – a lowly commoner – had no right to take such tone with a noble, even if that noble was his student. And yet, my sweet brother did not strike him down as he should have. Instead, he once more concentrated on that inane candle.

Anguish and rage warred in my heart to a point that they momentarily immobilised me. I wanted to draw my blaster and shoot the man in the head for all the hurt he had dealt to my Ivan. But he was a member of the Psions Guild and his death, no matter how much I desired it, would cause more problems than I dared to risk. For now. I needed to stay sharp and not let my emotions rule my actions. I had worked far too long to jeopardise everything now. I needed to consolidate my power before I could bargain for the tutor's head. But by the gods, I promised myself, I would see his head on a silver platter one day.

With icy self control, I forced myself to let go of my blaster's handle.

I could not kill him, not today, but I could certainly have him thrown out of my house.

My house.

The thought made me smile.

I stepped out into the training yard, motioning for the men with me to follow. The same guards my father had employed for a pittance. Their loyalty had been bought easily – which made them a liability I did not plan on keeping around. Just a temporary solution until I could obtain more trustworthy personnel.

It was a typical Yaiciz afternoon. The sky was greyish brown with smog from some industrial plant blowing this way. Even here at our secondary estate, there was rarely a chance to escape the constant pollution, but that was the price one had to pay for being somewhat civilised. Maybe a planet like Shiraz had better air, but they missed out on electricity, planet-wide communications and all the other amenities brought by progress. A brown sky was a small price to pay.

Besides, the glass roof and excellent air-conditioning made sure we lived in the comfort a noble deserved.

The tutor noticed me first and respectfully took a step back as I approached. With a gesture, I ordered him to leave and he obeyed instantly with a little bow. Quite capable of behaving appropriately when faced with a real noble, I noted. Maybe it wasn't really his fault. Probably, he sensed the slave blood in Ivan's veins and assumed he needed a strong hand.

Now, I had Ivan's attention and he frowned at me and my retinue.

Ah, Ivan, Ivan... I greeted him. My poor brother. You’ve made a fool of yourself again, haven’t you?

My genuine compassion didn't seem to get through to him, judging by the deepening frown. I sighed soundlessly. I had so much work ahead of me to undo all the damage Father had done, to mould my sweet brother into what he was meant to be. There would be ugly moments, but for him, I was willing to do anything.

What do you want, Anya?

We would have to work on his manners, too. What was acceptable for a young noble would not be acceptable for his new status. But I wasn't worried – we had all the time in the world now.

I opened my arms in a conciliatory gesture. I come bearing glorious news.

Fear and hope warred on his face. Too easily read, of course. To survive as a noble you had to guard your true emotions at all times. Ruefully, I had to admit to myself that when it came to emotions, Ivan was my one great weakness. I had never managed to fully conceal how much I desired him.

But now I wouldn't have to any more.

Father is dead. Maybe a bit blunt, but I needed him to understand the new facts of his life. I killed him. I now hold his titles, and everything that was his is now mine. There will be changes, but the only one that concerns you is this – you will no longer have to suffer any more useless lessons or training. No one will ever demean you again. You will live in all the luxury and comfort I can provide. I am claiming you as my slave. My pet.

The guards behind stepped forward and fanned out to gain a clear line of sight to shoot. As expected, my hapless little brother wasn't smart enough to submit to his fate willingly. He simply couldn't see that this was the way it had always been meant to be.

With impressive dexterity, he managed to dodge the first two stunner shots aimed at him. He should have rolled towards me, grabbed me for a human shield and taken me hostage. But of course, that thought didn't even cross his mind. Instead, he bolted for the back exit from the yard. If he had been wearing an energy shield, he might even have made it and forced my men to chase him down. But he wasn't wearing a shield, so the single stunner shot that hit his leg brought him down. He should have worn a shield. Any child of House Quetzal ought to know to expect a stab in the back at any time, especially from their siblings. I always wore a double-layer, military-grade one.

My brother's brief attempt at freedom ended with another stunner shot into his back, quite poetically fitting. I watched the guards rush forward to take him down. Even stunned, he was still trying to struggle, but he was entirely outmatched. My men managed to hold him face down and used force cuffs to secure his hands against his back. That didn't stop him from kicking one of them straight in the face.

Well, they admittedly were at a severe disadvantage when handling him – I had explained in minute detail what would happen if they damaged my most prized possession. The guard who had been kicked in the face raised his fist to strike Ivan but quickly dropped it again with a fearful glance in my direction. What a good boy.

His fellows pulled my brother up onto his knees. I made my way over to them slowly, savouring how very beautiful he looked – shaking himself, trying to clear off the effect of the stunner shots. He raised his head to look at me. His gaze was full of confusion, so many strong emotions tumbling over each other, but the strongest one was fear. It made my heart clench in pain. He had no reason to be afraid of me. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to beat that out of him.

Ivan, there is nowhere you can run from me. I crouched down in front of him to bring us to eye level. And you have no reason to. I am doing this for you. For us. I know you can't see it yet, but I promise with time, you will. You will be happy, as you deserve to be. We will be happy.

He stared at me without comprehension. No, he whispered, shaking his head.

Oh, he would adapt, in time. At least, he didn't start begging, though I was sure he would have done so quite prettily. Begging came much too easily for him, and once again, I suspected his slave blood to be at fault. Instead, he just knelt there, limp in the hands of his captors now, shell-shocked.

I reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair back behind his ear. I was finally allowed to indulge myself, caressing it longer than necessary, just to enjoy the feel of his dark, silken hair against my skin. Flushed from his escape attempt, Ivan was even more beautiful, his soft lips beckoning to me.

No, not yet. Not with so many curious eyes watching. Our love was not to be shared with lowly commoners.

Instead, I pulled the slave collar from my pocket.

I had spent hours poring over what model would look best on him. In the end, I had picked a golden collar with a subtle inlay of black jewels that reflected my wealth in an understated way and at the same time matched his complexion and beauty. Of course it came with all the high-end tech built in that any pet owner could ask for. Tracker, shocker, drug port and monitoring of all his vital signs. It would allow me to take such good care of him. And yet, I still wasn't entirely happy with the security package. A collar could be taken off him if he were stolen, after all. So I planned to have a tracking chip installed in his body as soon as possible. The first in a series of small modification to enhance his beauty even more.

Ivan's reaction at the sight of the collar was what I had expected. His beautiful brown eyes grew wide, and he started struggling with renewed fervour. No! he shouted, but my men had him firmly under control.

They held him by the shoulders and one of them grabbed his braid, both to immobilise his head and to keep his hair out of the way. They were hurting him, and I wanted to hurt them for it a thousand times more, but it couldn't be helped. Swiftly but gently, I laid the collar around his neck and closed it. It looked just as beautiful as I had thought, fitting my brother perfectly. I allowed my fingers to linger a little longer, trailing along his neck.

All will be well now, I promised.

He shuddered under my touch and a wave of excitement ran through me as he glared at me defiantly. Time for a first lesson, then.

I pulled the collar's remote control from my pocket. I waited until Ivan realised what it was, and that I was about to use it. Then I activated the shocker.

With a hiss of helpless pain, my brother writhed in the hands of his captors. Gritting his teeth, trying to be brave, trying to keep silent. It pained me more than it did him, but it was necessary. And still, he was so pretty even in his torment.

When I stopped, Ivan sagged forward.

I stroked his bowed head. I'm so sorry, my love. So sorry. Please don't make me do that again. Please be a good boy for me, yes?

Even though he was breathing hard from the pain, he shook his head, Never.

With a deep sigh, I leaned in closer and kissed the top of his head. We still had a long way to go. But we would take it step by step.

Together.

Chapter One – To Hell in a Handbasket

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Ivan jerked to a stop when the chain that connected him to the other slaves walking behind him suddenly went taunt. In turn the slaves in front of him stumbled to a halt as well.

A glance back showed him that a slave had fallen to his knees, clutching his shoulder, with a BoBoMEC standing over him, brandishing his stun baton.

You fucking piece of shit, I've had it with you! Get the fuck up or I will beat the shit out of you! the guard yelled.

Not the most creative bit of swearing, but BoBoMEC guards weren't picked for their conversational skills. He wore the dull red uniform of all employees of the Bora Bora Mining and Engineering Corporation, easily distinguishing them from the slaves, who wore whatever rags they had had when they had been purchased for shipment to Yaiciz's only moon.

'A one-way ticket to hell', as it was known among Yaiciz's slave population. No one came back from the windmines. Of all the places Ivan had planned never to end up, Bora Bora was third on the list, right behind being returned to the tender care of his sister Anya, and going back to being a pet of some other batshit crazy Quetzal relative of his.

He used the continued hold up behind him to scan the vast expanse of the landing field for some chance of escape. Not that he expected one to materialise. That would have been a miracle, worthy of an investigation from that stupid Church TV show. There was plenty of heavy machinery and vehicles hauling cargo all over the place with a fitting assortment of workers in all sorts of corporation duds. But it was all well organised chaos, with plenty of light from huge floodlights illuminating the dim Yaiciz afternoon. A flock of Mikkti, the ever-present flying vermin of Yaiciz, perched on a stack of containers nearby, hungrily eyeing the slaves and screeching at each other. The BoBoMECs watching over them were bored, but vigilant. Even if Ivan hadn't been chained to the dead weight of more than fifty other slaves, he would have bet against